I Got Kicked Outta Gold Rush Over Jimmy Smacks… Here’s the Real Tea.

I Got Kicked Outta Gold Rush Over Jimmy Smacks… Here’s the Real Tea.

Y’all. I’m pissed. I broke my keto today and hit up Wingstop because honestly? I deserve it after what happened last night. I got kicked outta the damn strip club. Yup. I went to Gold Rush in Miami, and baby, let me tell you—it was a whole mess.

Let’s start from the top.

So if you been following me since back in the day, before TikTok blew up, y’all remember IG being the app. Heavy IG days. And there was this dude that used to pop up all over my timeline—Jimmy Smacks. I never followed him, never cared. But he’d show up on the blogs like Shade Room or randomly on explore. I always kept scrolling because honestly, he’s not my vibe.

Fast forward—now I live in Miami. I got a circle out here. And one of my closest friends? She used to date Jimmy. She’s told me enough horror stories that I never wanted to meet him, talk to him, breathe the same air as him. That man was never on my radar, and I liked it that way.

So boom—it’s my friend’s birthday (yes, that friend), and we’re celebrating at Gold Rush. We got our own little section, bottles flowing, good energy. Then suddenly, guess who pops up trying to be cute near our section? Yup. Jimmy Smacks himself.

I don’t even remember how the intro happened—if someone tried to bring him over or what. All I know is, he approached, and I made it very clear I wasn’t interested. I was polite about it too. Like, “No thank you. I’m good.” Multiple times. I’m not rude unless you force my hand.

Now here’s where it gets wild.

Apparently, telling a man “no” is the worst thing you can do because all of a sudden he got real bold. Told me—and I quote—“If you weren’t a girl, I’d smack you in the face.”

EXCUSE ME??

Sir. Just because I don’t want to talk to you? Because I politely rejected you? Now you threatening violence? Oh nah.

Let me remind y’all—you came into our section. You came into my face. I wasn’t in yours. And now you wanna hit me because I got boundaries? The math ain’t mathing.

So I do what any logical person would do—I go to security. I’m thinking, “Okay, they gonna handle this, right?” Nope. I must’ve been the dumbest person in that club thinking I was gonna get justice in a strip club.

Security deadass looked me in the face and asked, “Well why were you talking to him?” Like huh??? I wasn’t! That man wouldn’t leave me alone!

At that point, I knew what it was. Politics. Money talks in places like that. And clearly, he must drop a bag in that club ‘cause they didn’t care at all about what he said to me. Didn’t protect me. Didn’t remove him. They basically told me to deal with it.

order:

So I left. Maybe I got kicked out. Maybe I stormed out. I don’t even care. All I know is I will NEVER step foot in Gold Rush again. Ever. If y’all don’t protect women—especially when a man is threatening to hit someone just for saying no—you don’t deserve our business.

I can’t shake this one. I keep replaying it in my head. I didn’t ask for this. I was just celebrating a birthday. Living my best life. And now I’m the villain because a man couldn’t handle rejection?

Jimmy—it’s UP. I’ll never forget that. Promise you.